Sheathing the Shattered Sword
by SisterG
Summary: In the doomed city of Manetheren Queen Eldrene waits for the end to come.


**Disclaimer:** The wonderful world of Wheel of Time belongs to Robert Jordan, the man with the greatest imagination in the world. This is a tribute to his work and I am not getting any money from writing this.

A/N: This is the story of Queen Eldrene on the last day of Manetheren, the story Moiraine told in _The Eye of the World_ and what struck me sad yet beautiful the moment I read it for the first time, years and years ago.

I used "World of the Wheel of Time" by Robert Jordan and Theresa Patterson as a reference book, and I hope I got all the details right.

Please leave a review. Any constructive criticism is welcome. Flames will be used to heat a Trollock kettle!

A big thank you for Min Daae for taking the task of beta reading my story and giving plenty of helpful advice. Go read her stories, they are truly worth of your time.

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**SHEATHING THE SHATTERED SWORD**

Manetheren, the Mountain Home. She was living her final days and Eldrene el'Ellisande knew this. No one would come. From the balcony of her bedroom she stared over the empty city that once had been full of life and laughter, even at the times of War. The War had raged through centuries. She doubted there was a living soul that still remembered the short time when the Ten Nations had lived in peace.

Many of those nations were now nothing but dead ruins. Or like Aridhol, something even worse. The City she had been born in almost two hundred years ago was worse than dead; it was Shadow itself. A lone tear ran down her cheek for the loss of her kin. She had not known them, but they had been her flesh and blood.

Once, her sister had come to visit her in Tar Valon, the year she had been raised Accepted. They had not had much to discuss. The White Tower had swallowed Eldrene body and soul and she had belonged there then. After that one short visit, she had not seen any of her family.

Tar Valon. The Heart of the Land, as the old saying went. And the White Tower was the heart of Tar Valon. Aes Sedai, the puppeteers that made the Kings and Queens and great nations dance. She smiled grimly. She had stopped dancing at the end of the strings of the Amyrlin Seat, the Master Puppeteer herself. An Aes Sedai queen, Eldrene was equal in power with Tetsuan.

And in her pettiness The Amyrlin had betrayed her. Eldrene had sent a plea of help to the Hall of the Tower almost a month ago when the first signs of the invasion had been obvious, but no answer had ever come. And nine days ago Manetheren had pled help in desperation according to the Compact and she waited, knowing no one would come. She was certain it was Tetsuan's doing. The utterly power-hungry woman played her own games of deceit that held nothing sacred. To the Amyrlin, Manetheren was a threat.

She whirled around and walked to her desk. Three nights ago she had written ten short letters, all stating the same message. She read one of them again.

_Aes Sedai_, it stated coldly and formally.

_Manetheren needed the help of White Tower that she was entitled to as the Agreement states. The help never came. At the last hours of her life Manetheren severs all the ties she has with the White Tower._

_Eldrene ay Ellan ay Carlan el'Ellisande  
__Queen of Manetheren and of King Aemon  
__Of The White Ajah_

Under her name she had pressed seal of The Queens of Manetheren, the Serpent and the Rose.

This letter would sear the tie between White and Red forever, she thought when sending away the pigeon that carried the letter to the First Reasoner.

Maybe she still had the chance to pay her service to Tetsuan. She tied the note to the legs of ten different pigeons, some of them would find their way. For each Ajah but Red. Tetsuan had never abandoned her former Ajah and her Ajah had never abandoned her. Three of the letters were for the High Lords in the Stone of Tear, Queen Morana or whoever ruled the Palace of the Stars in Al'cair'rahienallen and Lord Chancellor of Aelgar. The last was for the Amyrlin Seat herself. The word would spread like wildfire that The White Tower had betrayed her strongest ally.

She walked back to the balcony and resumed her post at keeping watch over the East where the battle raged. She should be there with her Gaidin, not here. But she had been needed in the City to see that the people were safely on their way. The Palace of Western Winds was now empty. Counsellor Baldain had prayed her to come with them to the safety.

She had refused. Her place was here to wait for her King to return. He would return. He had to. The Eagle of Manetheren was her heart.

She could almost hear the distant cries of battle. Nine nights and ten days the men of Manetheren had stood against the armies of the dark and it was sure now that no one would come. They were betrayed. The pact of the Ten Nations was broken and the Sword That Could Not Be Broken would shatter soon.

She stood the watch through the night listening the battle cries. _Carai an Ellisande_, she could make out the words. For the Rose of the Sun. She was too far away to lash with One Power without harming her people. A hope woke in her heart. The thorn at the Dark One's foot still remained and the fierce warriors of Manetheren stood steady.

Then, at the dawn of the eleventh day her heart broke. It was like a sword of ice had been thrust to her flesh. The faint awareness of Aemon who always nestled in her head was suddenly gone. It felt like her soul had been severed. She sobbed and collapsed on the cold tiles of the balcony. Only one thing would break the Bond. He was dead. Aemon was dead. He would never hold her again, she would never hear the smooth and velvety voice that soothed her and made her smile. Nothing remained but the coldness.

They had killed him. An icy rage swelled in her. She would revenge. She pushed herself up. Her fingers white she squeezed the railing. Not here. She needed a place where she could _see_.

The sound of her heels echoed in the empty halls of the Palace when she ran higher and higher until she reached the upper chamber of the tallest tower. She looked at the battlefield. There the hordes of Trollocks and darkfriends commanded by Myrdraal and dreadlords rushed forward. She could see them very faintly with her _saidar_-sharpened eyes; see how they slaughtered the remains of the unyielding army of Manetheren.

They were coming to tear down the Mountain Home, her home. She might not have been born Manetheren, but Manetheren had taken her as her own the day Aemon had pressed the Crown of Roses on her head. The crown was now in the possession of Baldain. He would take good care of it for the queens to come, may they be worthy of it.

She wove Fire, Earth and Air and the walls and the ceiling of the tower exploded out around her. She needed a clear sight. Immediately, the wind gripped the simple white dress she had been wearing and her loose pale hair flew around her head. She was like death herself, beautiful but dreadful, dressed in mourning and her perfect features distorted with rage. She ripped the rose-shaped brooch sa'angreal off her bodice. The sharp edges sank to the flesh of her palm when she squeezed it in her hand.

The calmness filled her and her features were once again chiselled of marble. Only her icy blue eyes were alive. She wove the intricate web of Air and Fire and watched how it crossed the morning sky. She raised her bloodstained fist with the sa'angreal to the sky and the sky answered her gesture with fire and death. Over and over in rapid succession the balefire hit the ground and the now terrified army of the Darkness turned to flee. Men and Shadowspawn ran and the ranks broke. But it wasn't enough; she would let none of them leave Manetheren grounds alive.

A counter attack hit her. She did not see the weave, but it was clumsy work of some untrained man. She brushed it aside like a fly without feeling the pain. Sweat was pouring down her face when she altered the weave adding her Lace of Spirit so that the fire would hunt down those with One Power first.

Again and again she hit, pulling herself full of Saidar, to the brink of pain and over it. She knew what it meant, but she didn't care. Nothing of the army would be left when the night fell! She lashed with fire, she lashed with ice and the earth erupted under the feet of the Darkfriends and dark creatures tearing them to pieces when they tried to flee. With grim determination she soaked the ground with blood from the sunrise to the sunset.

When no one was standing Eldrene, Sister of the White Ajah and Queen of Manetheren fell wearily on her knees and collapsed on the topless tower. The weaves slipped from her hands, severing her from the True Source forever and draining the very life out of her. The air was alive all around Manetheren. The fire broke loose, so hot that it melted the very stones of the once greatest city in the known world.

The city would burn to the ground and on the top of the tallest tower lay Eldrene, the Rose of the Sun that once had made the flowers to bloom just so that they would see her smile. The ever-present wind took her last words.

"For Aemon, the heart of my heart."

And The Mountain Home was no more.


End file.
